


The Purrrrfect Gift

by edie4711, vanillahigh00



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Cats, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:40:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27697067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edie4711/pseuds/edie4711, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillahigh00/pseuds/vanillahigh00
Summary: A sound startles David out of his thoughts. A high-pitched, mournful sort of sound.What the fuck is that?It’s coming from the sunroom at the back of the house. It sounds like a…bird? No, it can’t be a bird, it’s after dark. It’s definitely an animal sound, though. Owl? A baby? David shudders, then shakes it off; it’s a ridiculous thought. No one alive would think leaving a baby on David Rose’s doorstep in the night is a good idea.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer & Stevie Budd, Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd & David Rose
Comments: 40
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TrueIllusion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueIllusion/gifts).



> Rated M for language and slight innuendo!

David is curled up on the couch, an alpaca throw from the store tucked around his feet, half-watching _The Nine Lives Of Christmas_ on the Hallmark Channel (mostly for Brandon Routh, if David is being honest) while scrolling through comments on the Rose Apothecary’s latest holiday Instagram campaign. The house is quiet apart from the low murmur of the TV, and the candles on the mantelpiece fill the room with the cozy aroma of cinnamon and pine balsam. David is carefully rationing the burning of the candles; they had sold out at the Apothecary almost immediately, and they were seasonal, but tonight, he felt he deserved a treat.

Smiling feels natural to David these days. He is smiling now, enjoying the praise from Apothecary customers for his inspired holiday display designs this year. He turns to Patrick’s easy chair, opening his mouth to read aloud a particularly flattering comment, before remembering that Patrick is not in the chair but is instead miles away in Elm Valley, attending a workshop on Facebook marketing. David’s smile slips a little, and he closes his mouth, then gives himself a little shake. Patrick will be home tomorrow; David can tell him about the comment then.

Just then, the screen on David’s phone lights up with Patrick’s photo. David almost drops the phone as he scrambles to answer the call. 

“Hi, honey,” David says, smiling again. “How is the workshop?”

“Really good.” Patrick’s voice is warm. “There was a very informative section on brand engagement; you would have liked it. I took a lot of notes for you, though.”

“Mmm, I think we agreed that of the two of us, you’re the one best suited to wearing adhesive name tags and sitting in chilly hotel ballrooms watching Powerpoint presentations for hours on end. But I do miss you a lot.”

“I miss you, too. And it _was_ really chilly in that ballroom.”

“Well, I’ll just have to warm you up when you get home, then.”

Patrick’s voice gets even warmer. “I look forward to that.”

“Mmhmm,” David says, emphatically. “Me too.”

They chat for a few more minutes, about everything and nothing—the day’s revenue at the store, the amusing “mixer” after the workshop, David’s attempt at breakfast going awry and resulting in David simply stopping by the motel to steal cinnamon rolls instead. (He knows Jocelyn doesn’t mind, although Roland will never let go of the time David stole his truck, years ago, and gives David a good-natured hard time about the occasional pastry heist.)

“Well,” says Patrick reluctantly, “the sooner I can get to sleep, the sooner I can wake up and get on the road.”

“Sleep well,” David says. “I love you.”

“I love you too, David.”

David taps the hang-up button, setting his phone down on the couch beside him. On the TV screen, Brandon Routh is receiving emotional support from his firefighter friends at the station. Wow, there are really a _lot_ of handsome firemen in this movie, along with the underrated Kimberly Sustad, although David doesn’t know who they think they’re kidding, pretending the setting is Portland when it is clearly shot in Canada. He might need to re-evaluate his overall opinion. He should rewatch it with Patrick, just to be sure. 

A sound startles David out of his thoughts. A high-pitched, mournful sort of sound. 

_What the fuck is that?_  


It’s coming from the sunroom at the back of the house. It sounds like a…bird? No, it can’t be a bird, it’s after dark. It’s definitely an animal sound, though. Owl? A baby? David shudders, then shakes it off; it’s a ridiculous thought. No one alive would think leaving a baby on David Rose’s doorstep in the night is a good idea. 

He stands, wrapping the alpaca throw around his shoulders like a shawl, then starts toward the sunroom. He hesitates, then picks up from a side table one of the heavy silvered candlesticks that had been a wedding gift from Bob and his new girlfriend Gail. Just in case. 

David creeps as silently as he can toward the French doors leading to their back deck.

A pair of glowing green eyes is looking straight at David through the glass.

“AAAHH!” screams David, stumbling backward, dropping the candlestick on the rug beneath his feet. In the confusion, he trips over his throw, falling and landing heavily on his ass on the rug. _Ow._

Hastily feeling his limbs for broken bones and sprains and finding none, he peeks back through the glass at the eyes, which haven’t moved. The eyes are low to the ground. A very short monster, David thinks.

“Hello?” David manages. 

“MEOW,” the monster replies.

_Holy fuck, it’s a cat._

*****

David panics. He runs back into the living room and turns the movie back on, turning up the volume so he can forget about the tiny creature loitering outside on this deck. 

Except he can't. David doesn't love animals, but he finds himself googling 'stray cats on my deck' and finds that the cat is somehow trying to get his attention. He thinks about that for a moment and realizes that it's cold and the cat probably can't find their way home in the dark. Maybe it's hungry. David gets back up and surveys his fridge. He spies some leftover salmon and asparagus. He warms it up just a touch. 

Once it's warmed up, he turns on the light on his back deck and finds the tiny cat still sitting there patiently. It was as if it knew David would be back. He opens the door gently.

It's kind of...pretty, David has to admit. Kind of beautiful, actually. 

Its body is a patchwork jumble of browns, blacks, and tans, ending in a snowy white chest. A triangle of white covers its nose and mouth, and its face is a half-tan, half black mask. A tiny half-beard of black adorns its chin like a smudge, and David snorts out a laugh in spite of himself. The tan reminds him of Patrick's hair, while the black reminds him of his own. The cat regards David with huge amber eyes that seem to plead with him.

"Are you hungry?" David squats down to the cat's level, setting the plate down on the ground.

"Meow," the cat responds, making its way over to the plate of food, and it immediately starts purring. 

David doesn't have a lot of experience with cats, and the sound of the cat purring brings a smile to David's face. Remembering that the cat must be cold, he closes the door and heads back into the house to look into the hallway closet, looking for a blanket. His eyes settle on one that Jocelyn and Roland had given to David as a housewarming present months ago. David takes the blanket and heads out on the deck, cautiously trying to keep his distance. He places the blanket down and tries to mold it into a nest. It's not much, but it seems like the right thing to do. The cat will go home in the morning, and at least David will feel right about having tried to take care of it. 

David goes back into the house and watches the cat devour the salmon. When all of the fish is gone, the cat looks back up at David.

"Meow!" 

David looks down at the plate, "Eat the asparagus. It's not my favorite either, but it's good for you. Didn't your mother ever tell you to eat your vegetables?"

"Meow!"

"Well, suit yourself. I'll leave the asparagus out here for when you realize you're still hungry."

David steps out onto the deck one more time and gestures toward the blanket, squatting down to the cat's level. He's actually surprised he's not more afraid of this cat. Usually, he'd be concerned that an animal would try to claw his eyes out if he got too close, but he is not worried. He actually feels good about trying to help it. 

"Here, come sit here. It will keep you warm.” David gestures toward the blanket. “I'm going to my warm bed. Good night!"

With that, David closes the light on his deck and makes his way back into the living room to finally finish his movie before he retreats for the evening.


	2. Chapter 2

David awakens from a fitful sleep. It’s been fitful because every time he rolls to Patrick’s side of the bed, Patrick isn’t there. Patrick’s side of the bed is cold, and David finally sits up, glancing at the clock. Seven-thirty. He pulls his phone off the charger and looks to see if there is a message from Patrick. Of course, there is, with a timestamp from an hour ago.

**Patrick:** good morning husband  
**Patrick:** I hope you slept well  
**Patrick:** about to go down for breakfast, should be on the road by 8. I’ll be home around lunchtime  
**Patrick:** can’t wait to see you  
**Patrick:** my love

David smiles at his phone. 

**David:** love you too see you soon xoxo  
**David:** drive safely

He chatters his way out of the covers and into his Uggs, slips on Patrick’s ratty old bathrobe, for once glad that he hasn’t gotten around to burning it, and wanders sleepily into the kitchen. 

There’s a Post-It note on the coffee maker. PUSH, the note says, in Patrick’s careful capitals, with an arrow pointing to the ON button. 

David pushes the button and in moments, the sound and scent of brewing coffee fills the room. God, he loves his husband. And this coffee maker, to be honest, even though one day it’s destined to be replaced by the espresso maker he has had his eye on since last year. It isn’t the coffee maker’s fault it doesn’t make espresso, though, and he pats it gratefully.

Coffee poured and augmented with his customary cocoa powder, skim milk, and sweetener, David shuffles into the sunroom, settling into his favorite old wicker lounge chair to look at the view outside the big windows while he finishes waking up. David always was at one with nature, even though his years at Coachella are far behind him.

He is only in the chair for a few seconds when he feels an odd sensation of being watched, and the hair stands up on the back of his neck. Slowly, he turns to the French doors, then gives a startled little yelp.

The cat is there, of course. Looking at David.

*****  


“Stevie, please,” David says into the phone, fidgeting with the tie on Patrick’s bathrobe; the tie is basically a collection of faded strings, and David doesn’t know if this garment is technically still allowed to be called a bathrobe at this point. “I could really use your help with this... _situation._ ”

“David.” Stevie’s voice is rough with sleep. “You know I got in late last night. I’m exhausted.”

“Please,” David repeats, still watching the cat, whose pleading eyes are fixed on him. The cat meows again, plaintively, and David swings around so he can’t see it any more. He’s already noted that the cat wears no tags, has no collar. There is no one he can call to come and get this cat. And David knows what it’s like to feel alone.

Stevie grunts, and even through the phone, David feels her relenting. 

“Fine,” she says, gruffly. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. But you _owe_ me, David Rose.”

“Absolutely,” says David. “Anything you want, I’ll…Stevie? Hello?”

She’d hung up. 

True to her word, in exactly ten minutes Stevie is letting herself in the front door, stamping her feet against the cold and, David suspects, just to annoy him. 

“David? Where are you?”

“Back here,” he calls from his crouched position at the sunroom door where he and the cat are watching each other. The cat has not moved from its post on the deck, and it continues to meow periodically at David.

Stevie comes up beside him. 

“Well. Look at...that,” she says, slowly.

David looks up at her. Her hair is unwashed and pulled back in a messy ponytail, and the T-shirt under her flannel is on backwards. She is wearing only one sock. God, he loves her.

“It’s a cat,” he informs her.

“Well, I can _see_ that.”

“Well, what do we do?” David tries not to wring his hands.

“I’m sorry, ‘we’?”

“It’s hungry.”

“So...feed it?” Stevie throws her hands up helplessly. “Do I look like a cat whisperer to you, David?”

“Yes,” says David, failing to conceal a smirk by tucking his lips between his teeth. “You look like a cat whisperer. A cat whisperer who got dressed in the dark.”

“Shut up,” Stevie says, nudging him with her foot. “And, get up. Let’s go see what we can find.”

They peer together into the refrigerator, where they find a Tupperware container of hummus, a jar of olives, and a half-frozen roast meant for tonight’s dinner. 

Stevie picks up the hummus and examines it doubtfully. “I don’t think cats eat hipster sandwich filling.”

“I think we need to go to the pet store,” David says. “I offered it some of my coffee, but it wasn’t interested. I think it needs cat food.”

“Well, then,” says Stevie, setting the hummus back inside the refrigerator and closing the door. “Get dressed. I guess we’re going to the pet store.”

*****

_A weaker man might have walked away, but you had faith  
Strong enough to move over and understand, while I got it together  
While I figured it out, they say, "If you love something let it go  
If it comes back it's yours, and that's how you know  
It's for keeps, yeah, it's for sure."_

Standing in the Bark ‘n Purr Pet Wonderland, David hums along with Christina Aguilera as he considers and rejects can after can of cat food. 

“You know what they say, David,” says Stevie, lounging against a six-foot-tall pyramid display of Gel-Tyme 100% Moist Cat Food. “If the store’s PA system is playing your jams, you’re their target demographic.”

“Bite your tongue. Also, Christina is a goddess and a timeless national treasure who knows no generational limits,” David snaps, appalled. “Can you at least pretend to focus, here?” He squints at the labels on the two cans he is holding. “Duck is really an acquired taste, I feel. And this one just says ‘entree’, what does that even mean?” He sets the cans back on the shelf. “Stevie, I just thought of something. What if the cat is vegan?”

“I’m pretty sure if you looked up ‘carnivorous’ in the dictionary, there would be a picture of a cat next to it,” Stevie replies. “Cats are biologically obligated not to be vegans.”

“I didn’t know you were such an expert on cats,” David says, tilting his head. “Did your Aunt Maureen teach you that?”

“She may have.” Stevie brushes past David and grabs a random can off the shelf. “What about chicken? Everybody likes chicken.”

David snatches the can from her hand. “I’ll need to Google the reviews on it first, but yes, chicken is, admittedly, the neutral of the food world. It’s boring, but safe. What do you think--flaked, sliced, shredded, minced, morsels,’hearty cuts’...”

“What the fuck does ‘hearty cuts’ mean?” 

David shrugs. “Well, ‘morsels’ just sounds disgusting, that’s an easy no...oh! What about pâté?” He plucks a can off the shelf and waggles it at her; it’s wrapped in a photo of elegantly-plated brownish sludge. “This one looks less bad than the others, although it’s kind of a moving target at this point.” 

Stevie just rolls her eyes as David pulls out his phone to begin the vetting process.

After a protracted discussion about the merits of various fish oils, the food selections are finally made and added to the shopping cart, and Stevie pushes the loaded cart around the corner to the Cat Accessories aisle. 

“I had no idea cats needed accessories,” Stevie muses, holding up a stick with a feather on the end. 

“Accessories are the adjectives of life, Stevie,” David scoffs. “Everyone needs accessories. This is my comfort zone.” He raises an eyebrow at the stick she is holding. “I think I have something like that at home already, though.”

“You...have a _feather stick_ at home.” 

David feels his cheeks warming. “I...might. It’s not a cat toy, though.” He turns his face away so Stevie can’t see his expression.

“I gathered.” Her voice is dripping with sarcasm.

“Shut up,” he says. “Focus.”

David quickly selects two collars--a plain black one for daywear, and a slim patent collar encircled with faux pearls, for special occasions--and adds them to the cart. Spying a display of bags filled with green leaves, he taps Stevie lightly on the arm to get her attention. “What is _that_ all about?”

“David, that’s catnip,” Stevie says. “Unfortunately for us. But it’s the recreational drug of choice for cats.”

“There are recreational drugs for cats?” David marvels. “I’m learning _so much,_ today, from you.”

David grabs the largest bag from a peg and tosses it into the cart, reasoning that the cat might want to seek an escape from its lonely life, now and then. David himself was not above enjoying a similar mini-vacation after, say, a particularly grueling inventory count.

They wander the aisle for awhile, laughing over the catnip-stuffed mice and catnip-stuffed squirrels and crinkly catnip-stuffed sloths, when David spots something interesting.

“Look,” says David, tugging Stevie by the elbow toward a display of electronic toys in the center of the aisle. “Testers!”

He pushes the button on the side of a green plastic dome riddled with holes. It grinds to motorized life in an instant, and a tiny, fuzzy mouse darts out of one of the holes, directly at David’s face. David squeaks and jumps back.

“That actually looks really fun,” says Stevie, coming up beside him. They watch the tiny mouse pop in and out of the various holes at random. “Cats love to catch mice.”

“You are just a veritable fountain of information,” David says, but he’s intrigued. “‘Pop’NPlay’. That does sound fun.”

Stevie picks up a box from the display. “It’s thirty-nine ninety-nine,” she says. 

“Mmm. We did have a great November,” David says. 

“Do you have…” Stevie flips the box over, squinting at the tiny print. “...four D-cell batteries at home?”

David shoots her a look. “ _Please,_ ” he says, plucking the box out of her hands and tossing it into the cart. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

A hundred and eighty-seven dollars later, Stevie’s trunk is filled with cat food, cat dishes, a soft-sided cat carrier, and cat toys, and David is in Stevie’s passenger seat, trying to arrange his feet around the pile of papers, single shoes, and what looks like a bag of elderly croissants on the floorboard in front of him. “You should really clean this car out someday,” he tells her. “Now that you’re a big-deal lady boss, I mean.”

“Big-deal lady bosses don’t have time to clean out cars,” Stevie retorts. “I’m busy being a big deal. Don’t try and distract from the topic at hand. What exactly are you going to do with this cat, David?” 

“What do you mean, do with it?” David asks, rearing his head back.

“Well, what are you going to do? Feed it on the deck forever? Watch it slowly freeze to death?”

“Actually,” David says, “I’ve been thinking about that.”

“ _Have you,_ ” says Stevie, who knows David very well, better than he knows himself, sometimes.

“I was thinking that _you_...could, you know, temporarily of course, just…I mean...”

Stevie brakes a little too abruptly at the intersection, turning to look him in the eye. “I could what?”

“I mean, you don’t have to, obviously, but it’s, it’s cold out, and Patrick has that cat allergy, so you, you could...house it. Temporarily. _Foster_ it.”

“David.” Stevie’s voice is reproachful, but David also knows Stevie very well, better than she knows herself, sometimes. “David, I swear I am going to _kill_ you one day.”

“It would just be for a few days,” David says. He puts an extra boost of pleading into his voice. “I Googled cats. They’re hardly any effort at all. Apparently they sleep all day. You wouldn’t even _notice_ it, Stevie.”

“I can’t believe you’re forcing me to agree to this,” Stevie grumbles, but she is already putting on her blinker, turning left toward her apartment. “This is basically bullying.”

“It’s what friends do,” David says. “And kindness to animals is always rewarded.”

“By…?”

“I don’t know, the...the animal people!” David’s voice is rising.

“David Rose, you are very lucky I’m a nice person.”

“You are a good person, Stevie.”

She slaps him on the shoulder with the back of her hand as she pulls into the parking lot.

“Just shut up and help me carry this stuff upstairs,” she says. “Leave the carrier here. Then we’ll go get _your_ cat.”

“Um.” David doesn’t know what to say to that. 

*****

The cat is crouching in a patch of watery sun on the back deck when David and Stevie return to the cottage. It looks so cold; David can hardly bear it.

“How do you want to do this?” he whispers to Stevie.

“How should I know?” Stevie shoots back. “Also, why are we whispering?”

“I see the fountain of knowledge has dried up,” whispers David. “Do we just go out there and ask it to get into the carrier?”

“I...guess so?” 

“Okay.” David unzips the little door to the carrier, then turns the knob and eases the door open, slipping as soundlessly as he can out onto the deck. “I feel like a burglar,” he whispers.

“Apparently, you are a _cat_ burglar, David,” says Stevie, following him out.

The cat has not moved, but is watching David closely as he sets the open carrier down on the deck. He doesn’t recognize his own voice as he addresses the cat. 

“Come on,” he says, softly, encouragingly. “It’s okay. We got you some pâté, and some new clothes. Come on, get in.”

The cat doesn’t move.

“It’s okay,” David repeats. He holds his hand out to the cat, who shrinks back a little, but otherwise holds its ground. 

David looks down at his own hand, fingers outstretched. Instinctively, he curls his fingers in toward his palm, turning his hand so his knuckles are facing the cat. Immediately, the cat leans forward to sniff David’s rings.

“Ooh, your nose is cold!” David pulls back a little, but the cat leans closer, following his hand. “Stevie, I think it likes me.”

He turns to look at Stevie. Her eyes are shining. She tips her chin toward the cat.

“Go ahead,” she murmurs quietly. “Try to pick it up.”

David carefully stretches out his index finger and runs it over the fur on top of the cat’s small head. “Oh. That’s soft,” he says, and he smooths his palm over the soft fur. “That’s really soft. Did you know you were so soft, little cat?”

He gets the other hand on the cat’s back and he doesn’t know how it happens, but suddenly he can _feel_ the cat accepting his touch. It’s like an electrical current passing through his skin, like the cat is communicating wordlessly to David through its nerve endings. It’s good. Weird, but good.

“Can I pick you up?” he asks it, in this new, low voice that came from nowhere, and behind him he hears Stevie catch her breath and hold it. 

David slides one hand under the cat and lifts it into his arms. He holds it close to his body, and the cat’s nose meets his own. The nose is wet, and cold, and for some reason Alexis pops into David’s mind.  
“Boop,” David whispers, and he cradles the cat to his chest.

*****

David sets the carrier gently down on the floor of Stevie’s apartment and unzips the portal on the side. He places the dish of pâté about a foot away from the carrier, then steps back.

“So I’m pretty sure _you’re_ the cat whisperer here,” Stevie says.

“Huh?” David is barely listening as the cat works her way out of the carrier, sniffing around the edges of it before tentatively placing one delicate paw on the rug.

“This cat clearly likes you, and it’s obvious the feeling is mutual.” Stevie kneels and extends her hand to the little cat, who sniffs it thoroughly, rubs its head against Stevie’s knuckles, then makes its way to the food dish. “Also, you haven’t complained once about the stench of that pâté, and it is _pungent._ ”

“Mmhmm, yep,” David says, lost in thought as he watches the cat eat greedily. _Good job, little cat._ “Wait, what?”

“This is just for a few days, David,” Stevie reminds him. “My landlord does allow pets, but I’d have to pay an extra deposit, and anyway, I’m gone so much. I have another trip scheduled next week.”

“I could call the nipples vet,” David says, slowly. “Maybe he will have a suggestion.”

“I’m sorry, ‘nipples vet’? ...Actually, never mind,” Stevie says, in a tone that means _sometimes I forget you’re from another planet, David,_ and she leans down to pet the cat.

“There are always the Mennonites, too.” David remembers there being several cats hanging around the barn at the Amish farm he’d stayed at, all those years ago; Miriam had always left out wide, flat bowls full of fresh milk for them before hauling what remained in the milk pails to the churn on the porch. “You know, Stevie, having cats is beneficial if you have mice.”

“I don’t have mice, David.”

“No, I know,” he says absently, thinking of all the work Patrick had had to do, back before they moved into the cottage, sealing up the roofline so the squirrels couldn’t enter the attic, caulking little voids in the baseboards. Patrick’s tool belt hanging from his hips as David held the ladder for him, Patrick’s arm muscles flexing and shining with sweat in the afternoon sun as he worked.

_Patrick._ “Stevie, what time is it?”

Stevie checks her phone. “Eleven-thirty.”

“Holy fuck, I have to go.”


	3. Chapter 3

"Twyla, could I get a tea, please?" Patrick requests, sitting down at the counter. It's his morning to open, and after being away, he wants to start extra early to make sure everything is caught up, especially a couple of days before Christmas. The store is busier due to the holiday rush. Patrick figures he could catch up on inventory, plan some last-minute vendor pick-ups, and just take a few minutes to go over the books.

Twyla hands Patrick his tea, asking if she should grab anything for David. Patrick laughs and assures her that he'll be back later for another tea and David's coffee. Patrick thanks Twyla and pushes on the door, almost crashing into Stevie in the process.

"Good morning Stevie. I'm so sorry." 

"Pat-rick, hello, how was your trip?" Stevie asks shyly with a slight smile. She almost seems surprised to see him. She looks a little...guilty?

"It was very informative, but I'm glad to be home." Patrick feels his body grow warm at the thought of being home again, being with David. Patrick gets lonely at these seminars, and as much as he wants David to come with him, it doesn't make financial sense to hire someone else to watch the store. He's attending more and more of these business seminars because they prove beneficial for the store, especially as they talk more and more about expanding. It’s a small price to pay to build the store that started their life together. The store that he loves almost as much as he loves David.

“Is everything okay? Stevie asks, sounding concerned. 

"Do you have...a couple of minutes? I want to get your advice on something for David." Patrick asks with hesitation. 

He has spent a lot of time thinking about the perfect Christmas gift for David. David wants an espresso machine, and Patrick has every intention of getting that for him, but he wants to give David something special. Something that gives David a piece of Patrick to hold onto while he's away.

"Sure," Stevie smirks. She doesn't look any less guilty.

Patrick frowns. "Should I be concerned with that look on your face?" 

"No, no, it's nothing,” says Stevie, who is trying and failing to neutralize her expression. “How can I be of service?" 

"I want to get David a cat for Christmas, so.”

Stevie laughs out loud.

“Is that a bad idea?" Patrick is puzzled. Did he miss a punchline? "Um, what's so funny?" 

“I thought you were _allergic_ to cats?” Stevie says. 

"What...what do you mean?" Patrick freezes for a moment. He couldn't think of any reason why she would think that unless...no, did they take him seriously? David or Alexis wouldn't have told her about the one time he hints at a cat allergy, right? 

"You told David you were allergic to cats." She looks smug.

"Is this about Alexis and the cat hair scarf?" Patrick folds his arms. Did everyone really think Patrick was allergic to cats?

"Well, you put on a scarf, and when David told you it was made out of cat hair, you told him that you were activating your allergies, so…" Stevie shrugs and places her arms under the table.

"Oh, wow. I didn't think David remembered that conversation." 

"Not that you aren't great or anything, but the amount of time we spent talking about you from the moment David thought you insinuated his business was a failure was nauseating. We aren't even going to revisit the fact that if I hadn't insisted that his birthday was a date, we may not be sitting here right now."

"That's a stretch. I would've said something eventually." Patrick folds his hands on the table. He knows Stevie is right. 

"Doubtful, but I'm glad _I_ did because Alexis and I were about to bet on how long it would take you two to figure it out, and if I had to lose money over you two idiots, I would have demanded wine as repayment."

"That's fair. Luckily, we didn't have to resort to such drastic measures." Patrick tilts his head and grimaces.

"So, remind me again why you told David you had a cat allergy?" Stevie is not going to let this go.

"Alexis was hanging all over me. I didn't want David to get the wrong idea." 

"Um, and telling her you weren't interested didn't seem like an obvious response?" Stevie asks, completely straightfaced.

"I didn't want to be rude."

"Well, to your point, your husband thinks you are allergic, so props for making that believable."

"I guess I should mention that to David." 

"Yeah, that might be a good idea." Stevie grins and nods as she continues. "David would love a cat. He'd have some kind of companion with all these business seminars you've been attending. Your husband's need for attention when you're gone is a bit _much_ lately."

"I'm sorry about that. We've learned so much for the store..."

Stevie cuts him off. "Don't apologize. Get the cat so I can go out. He's an awful wingman since you've taken him off the market. Scares away any guy that shows interest, like he's my boyfriend. He's miserable without you, so I have to be miserable too. I don't like that for either of us."

"Aw, he misses me." Patrick knows he does, but it's nice to hear. David occupies 87% of Patrick's thoughts while he's away. He misses the quick glances across the store, the stolen kisses in the backroom, his warm body pinned next to Patrick's as they fall asleep. 

Stevie leans over across the table, "Don't you dare tell him I told you any of this. I'll have to kill you."

"Your secret is safe with me." Patrick smiles shyly.

"So go get the cat, but can I make a suggestion?"

"Sure."

"Take David with you to pick out the cat. He'll want to make sure it fits his aesthetic."

"Noted." Patrick smiles. He wouldn't dare pick out this cat without David.


	4. Chapter 4

“Merry Christmas, sleepyhead,” Patrick whispers as he kisses David on the forehead.

“Mmph.” David blinks his eyes open to see his husband, a small secret smile on his face, sitting on the bed beside him, a small box tied with a blue ribbon bow on his lap. 

_A present. Is that for him?_ Suddenly, David is very much awake. “Merry Christmas, Patrick. I thought we weren’t doing gifts till later?”

Patrick strokes David’s tumble of curls. “We are doing gifts later. Coffee is almost ready,” he says fondly, “but I brought you something else, if you want it now. Do you want it now?”

David grins sleepily. “I’m sorry, do you even know me at all? Of course I want it now.”

“We can wait until after coffee, if you want,” Patrick says mildly. “I mean, it’s okay with me.”

David shoots him a _look,_ then puts his hand out, palm up, giving a little huff of feigned impatience.

“Okay, okay,” Patrick says, laughing. “I didn’t want to wait till later, either. Merry Christmas, David,” he repeats as he puts the box in David’s outstretched hand.

David starts to tug on the end of the ribbon, then stops himself. He places his free hand on Patrick’s chest and narrows his eyes. “This isn’t...yen, is it?”

“What?”

“I just…” David closes his eyes. “I overheard you talking to my dad last night, I just wanted to prepare myself. In case you...My dad isn’t…His gift-giving skills are...Well...”

“David. Why would you think I would give you foreign currency for Christmas? Or ask your _dad_ , of all people, for advice about what to give you? I think I know you a little better than that. Go on, open it. I promise you, you’ll like it.”

“Okay,” David breathes. Sliding the ribbon off the box, he carefully removes the lid, then looks up at his husband in puzzlement as he fishes the gift, a slender black leather circlet, held together with what looks like a quick-release clasp, out of the box. He dangles it from one long, graceful finger. 

“Is this a...bracelet?” David’s face is scrunched in confusion. “It’s kind of big, it might fit my ankle...oh, I see, it’s adjustable...wait, is this a _sex thing?_ ” He tilts his head. “Patrick _Brewer,_ ” he murmurs seductively. “Merry Christmas to _me_. Where is the rest of this?” He peers around his husband.

Patrick flushes at that, and he swallows hard. “Um.” 

David shimmies his shoulders, smiling his ridiculous, sexy, lopsided smile, and Patrick laughs.

“David, it’s not...it’s not a sex thing,” Patrick says. “Although now that you mention it…”

“Oh,” David says, his voice scaling up. “Well, what…um...what is it, then?” 

“It’s a...collar?”

David’s eyebrows slide all the way up his forehead. “I thought you said it wasn’t a sex thing. Also, while I appreciate that you erroneously believe that I’m still model-thin, this will _never_ fit my neck.”

“David, it’s a cat collar. It’s for a cat.”

David’s mouth drops open, and he makes a sound very much like a squeak. Several emotions seem to pass over his face like a series of clouds, all at once, as his brain searches for words. “I...what? You…” he eventually splutters.

Immediately Patrick is laying a hand on David’s arm, stroking it reassuringly. “David, if you don’t like it, I promise I won’t be upset, I just had this thought--”

“But--” David seems to be gasping for air now.

“It’s really okay--”

“But you’re...you’re _allergic!_ ” David finally bursts out.

“David,” Patrick says quietly, “I have a confession to make.”

David’s heart skips a beat.

Patrick looks down at his hands in his lap. “I...lied to you about that cat allergy.”

“You _what?!_ ” David is really flustered now. 

_Why is David so flustered?_ Patrick is panicking, a little.

“Your sister was flirting with me, really just... _mercilessly_ , flirting with me, that day at the store,” Patrick says, all in a rush. “She was putting that scarf on me, and I knew that any minute you were going to come out of the stockroom and see that and...assume things. About me.”

“Well, I _assumed_ you were _allergic to cats_ , because that’s what you _told_ me,” David scolds, but his heart is beating again, and there is relief in his voice. 

Patrick shrugs. “I”m sorry, David.”

“So all this time, you let me believe this, this _falsehood?_ I rearranged my _entire floor plan_ to get those scarves as far away from you as possible, Patrick!” 

“David--”

“I marked them down to _half price!_ I even _cancelled the contract_ with that Himalayan breeder when they finally sold out!” David was sitting bolt upright in bed now.

“Honestly, David, I didn’t think you’d even remember that,” Patrick says, “although it does explain why you sometimes practically elbowed me out of the way when a customer would come to the cash with one of the scarves. I didn’t know you were...paying such close attention to me, back then. I mean, I hoped you were, but...” He trailed off, then looked into David’s eyes before continuing. 

“I would have done anything, back then, to get you to notice me, to get you to understand how I felt about you. I didn’t know how to tell you, and I was desperate--I was aching to tell you how much I liked you, how attracted to you I was, and I was really scared you’d get the wrong idea about me and Alexis. That I’d blow my chance with you forever.”

David was smiling now. “So you _lied_ to me, because you were _desperate_ for me,” he says. “You _ached_ for me.”

“I fell so hard for you, David, the moment I met you. You know that. I didn’t know how to tell you, back then, and I, I guess I just panicked. Your sister is _relentless_ , David.”

“I was trying to keep you from going into _anaphylactic shock!_ ”

“Aw,” says Patrick, looking at David so, so fondly. “Why am I oddly flattered?”

“I don’t know,” David says, petulantly. “You didn’t blow it, though. _Obviously._ ” 

Patrick cups David’s chin in his hand, gently stroking David’s cheek with his thumb before leaning in to press his lips to David’s.

“I cared about you back then, too,” whispers David when Patrick finally pulls away. “Pretty much right when we first met. You know that.”

“I do now,” says Patrick. “I love you, David.”

“I love you too,” David says. He looks down at the cat collar, still in his hand.

“So? What do you think of your Christmas present?”

“Patrick. I _love_ it,” David whispers. “You...actually have _no idea_ how much I love it.”

“So it’s a hit, then,” Patrick says, relief spreading across his face, and he laughs a little.

“It’s a _touchdown_ ,” David smiles. “A hole in one. A _slam dunk_ , Patrick.”

Patrick laughs, and a hint of heat is in his gaze now. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so many sports things in a row. It’s kinda doing it for me.” He leans in for another kiss, but David places a gentle hand on his chest to stop him.

“I’d love to sit here all day and _talk sports_ with you,” breathes David, throwing up finger quotes around “talk sports”, “and actually, maybe can we revisit that...topic of discussion, later? But I need to go...do something right now. So, if you’ll just…” He swings his long legs out of bed and pulls on his black Uggs.

“Don’t you want coffee first?” 

“I’ll just...I’ll just be a minute,” David says, grabbing his knit cap from the nightstand and pulling it down over his sleep-ruffled hair. “Really, I’ll be back so fast you won’t even know I was ever gone.” He bends to kiss Patrick’s forehead before heading for the door, still in his pajamas.

Patrick shakes his head in amusement. He knew better than to ask too many questions on Christmas morning. “I’ll have your coffee ready when you get back.”

“Can you put some whipped cream on top? Since it’s Christmas?”

“Way ahead of you, David,” Patrick says, already headed to the kitchen.

*****  
Just when David thinks he couldn’t possibly love Patrick more, he suddenly does. 

He races out the front door of the cottage at 7:30am, with so much excitement that as he's driving into town, he realizes that he didn't even tell Stevie that he's on his way to get her and the cat. _Oops._ It's a slight oversight, but she'll forgive him. After all, she did tell David she could only keep the cat for a couple of days. She'll be relieved to see him, right?

David walks up to Stevie's apartment and knocks gently on the door, not wanting to wake anyone up except Stevie. When she doesn't answer, David remembers his spare key. He doesn't use it often, but given this early hour, it seemed more appropriate to let himself in instead of waking up the whole building.

As he opens the door, he's greeted by the sound of a motor at his feet. He looks down and sees the cat rubbing up against his legs. A smile crosses his face as he quickly kneels down and runs his hand over the back of the cat's head and onto its back. The cat is clearly happy to see him. 

His cat. 

No, his and Patrick's cat. 

_What if Patrick doesn't like this cat? What if he envisioned a black cat? A grey cat? Patrick could love any cat David loves, right?_

David freezes for a moment as he realizes he just admitted to himself that he loved an animal. This was something new, but it felt right. Patrick would love this cat too. David was sure of it. 

"Want to come home with me?" David asks as he strokes the cat's soft fur. 

"Meow!" The cat rubs up against David's leg. 

"David?" 

David jumps up and sees Stevie standing a few feet away with her hands on her hips, a few hairs out of place, but she was sleeping. It’s what normal people do. He doesn’t blame her for her appearance. He isn’t exactly dressed to the nines himself.

“ _God,_ Stevie, are you trying to give me a _heart attack?”_ David clutches his chest.

"Um, no, because I have no one else to help me find a home for this cat, so you'll have to schedule that for another day." Stevie sits down on the couch. "Use your spare key?" She quirks an eyebrow.

"It was either that, or bang on your door till you opened it, waking up your neighbors."

"There is this thing called a cell phone? You could call me? What if I went to bed naked? Or had a guy in my bed?"

"Um, I've seen you naked, and you were with us last night, so I know you didn't take home some random."

"Okay, that's fair, but please tell me why you're barging into my apartment before 9am? Is there a fire? Is Patrick okay?"

David sits down and crosses his legs, and the cat climbs right into his lap as David pets his new feline friend. It all feels so calming, so nurturing. David realizes that Patrick knows that David needs this while he is gone. Sometimes it's as if Patrick knows David better than he knows himself. 

"You love that cat, don't you?" Stevie is smiling at him. Her eyes are shining bright. Stevie is happy for him. The feeling of being loved and cared about by multiple people never gets old. David didn’t think he would ever get used to that feeling after moving to Schitt’s Creek, but now he wouldn’t want to live without it. 

"I think I'm getting attached," David parts his lips to the side of his mouth as it curves upward, looking over at Stevie. "Um, Patrick wants to get me a cat for Christmas. Isn't that amazing?"

"So I suppose you know he's _not allergic_ to cats?"

"Yes, how do you know that?" David furrows an eyebrow and for a moment wonders if David is the only one who didn’t know that Patrick _is not allergic_ to cats.

"He asked me if I thought a cat was a good idea, and I gave him shit for lying to you."

"I won't hold it against him. Alexis _is_ a bit much."

Stevie nods and laughs. 

David continues, "What if he doesn't like this cat? 

"Um, David, he loves you. If you want this cat, he wants this cat." Stevie responds softly, and her voice is sincere. 

"You really think so?" David knows the answer, but just needs validation. David leans his arm on the coffee table in front of Stevie and rests his head on his fist.

"David, this is the man who would climb a thousand mountains for you." 

"God, I love him so much." David’s whole body lights up as he says it. Each and every time. 

"By the way, I took her to the nipples vet, aka Dr. Miguel, to make sure she didn't have fleas or anything."

David draws his free hand back in horror and gently pushes the cat off his lap. "I'm sorry, did you say fleas?" He brushes at his clothes with his hands, hoping he won’t find anything crawling up and down his body.

"David, he said she _doesn't_ have fleas."

"Well, what did he say?" The tone of David's voice takes on a higher pitch.

Stevie smiles. "He said she is perfectly healthy, and she's about eight months old."

"Oh, thank God." David gets up, walking toward the door where he finds the cat carrier. Takes a deep breath, steadying himself, and continues, "I almost had a panic attack."

"That's obvious." Stevie deadpans.

" _Rude._ It's a girl? I can get started on choosing a name?"

"It's a girl, so yes. Let's get you and your kitty home. As much as I've enjoyed her company, she'll be much happier with you and Patrick."

David looks down at the cat. "Are you ready to come home to Daddy Patrick and me? He's going to love you." He bends and picks her up as easily as if he’d been doing it all his life.. "I just need to put you in this carrier, so we can go for a ride in the car."

"Um, David,” says Stevie, “I’m just curious. Patrick let you get out of bed early on Christmas morning? You two don't just get out of bed early."

"Okay, so I woke up this morning, and he dropped a _gift-wrapped_ cat collar in my face. What was I supposed to do, reject it? You know my stance on presents."

"So you just jump in your car without a word to your husband that you're coming home with a cat? Did you _tell_ him about the cat?"

"Um, I neglected to share that information." 

"Where does he think you went?"

"I just told him I'd be right back."

"You've been gone for at least an hour.” 

"I'll text him in the car. Let's get going." David gestures toward the door.

"Um, excuse me? Let's get going? I'm not even wearing a bra."

"Clearly. Throw some clothes on. I'm going to go load up the car.

"I'm going to need some wine for this."

"It’s eight-thirty in the morning, Stevie. Also, Patrick will take care of you."

As soon as David latches up the cat carrier, the cat cries a sad song of continuous meows. 

"I'm sorry, this won't be a long ride. I promise," David reassures the cat.

David gathers up all the cat's belongings and gets them into the car. While waiting for Stevie, he shoots Patrick a quick text.

**David:** Hi, Honey, I'm sorry this is taking so long. I have a little surprise planned. See you soon, and I love you!

**Patrick:** Take your time and drive safe! Love you!

Stevie makes her way outside after what felt like a half-hour later.

"Um, what did you do, shower?"

"Just because you find it acceptable to leave the house in your pajamas, since you're an old married man, doesn't mean it's okay for the rest of us young, single people."

"Ew, I am not old, and yes, I'm shocked by my appearance as well, but as you pointed out, I'm a happily married man, so."

"Well, happily married man, let's get you and your cat home."


	5. Chapter 5

David pulls into the cottage’s driveway and turns off the Mariah Carey Christmas album as Stevie pulls in behind him. 

“I’m going to choose to believe you were singing along instead of whining through the entire car ride,” he tells the cat before grabbing the carrier. 

Stevie and David walk together into the house, David carrying the cat, and as they enter the foyer, they are greeted with the smell of egg nog, cinnamon, nutmeg and...possibly pancakes?

David puts the cat carrier down as Patrick comes out of the kitchen, freshly dressed and showered, sporting a wide grin and bright eyes. He makes his way over to David and kisses him softly on the cheek, then pulls Stevie in for a hearty hug. 

“Merry Christmas, Stevie!” Patrick says, patting her back.

“Merry Christmas, Patrick!” Stevie flashes Patrick that same guilty grin from that morning at the cafe as they pull apart. 

David follows Patrick’s glance as Patrick looks down at the carrier at David’s feet. 

“David, what do we have here?”

“Funny you should ask,” says David lightly. 

Patrick grins, fixing David with a level gaze and placing his hands on his hips.

David begins to pace. “So you went on that...the business trip, and the night before you came home, we had a...a _visitor,_ ; who enjoyed my leftover salmon and asparagus...well, maybe not the asparagus, even though I tried to tell her that she needed to eat her vegetables.” He flutters his ringed hand toward the cat. 

Patrick just stands there, with that same little grin on his face, and waits. 

“Anyway,” David continues, “she wouldn’t leave, so...I _may_...have...talked Stevie into keeping her till I could find a home for her, since I thought you were allergic to cats.” David grimaces a little, then brings his hands up to rub Patrick’s arms. He immediately feels calmer at the contact and takes a breath before he goes on. 

“Then my loving husband _surprises_ me with a cat collar. I had to go get this cat because I love her, and I love you, and I just think she would be a perfect addition to our home. Please say we can keep her.” 

Patrick is silent, and David lets go of Patrick’s arms, takes a step back, and waits for Patrick to respond. It seems to take a long time. 

“So this is a stray cat,” Patrick gestures toward the cat carrier, “who fell in love with you at first sight--which is completely reasonable, by the way--but because you thought I was allergic, you were going to bring her to a shelter?” 

David nods. “Yes, that’s correct, but since cats are no longer off limits, I’m just thinking….” 

“David,” Patrick interrupts, squatting down to peer into the carrier, “of course we can keep her. We can have any cat that will make you happy.” 

Smiling, David lowers himself to the floor beside Patrick, and reaches for his husband, cupping his hand around Patrick’s face as he leans in to kiss him softly. 

“Ew, you two,” Stevie says, furrowing her eyebrows. 

Reluctantly, Patrick breaks the kiss to look up at Stevie. “So, um, Stevie, I suppose you knew about _this situation_ when we spoke at the cafe the other day?” Patrick gestures toward the cat carrier. 

“I may have been...providing shelter, for this cat, at the time we spoke.” Stevie’s expression is blank, but her voice is soft. 

“Thank you, Stevie, yet again.” Patrick smiled warmly at her. 

“You can pay me in bottles of wine.” 

“I think we can handle that.” 

Patrick opens the cat carrier and the cat immediately darts out. “Oh!” he exclaims, startled, as the cat streaks past Patrick and into the master bedroom down the hall. 

The three of them follow the cat into the bedroom to find her hiding deep under Patrick and David’s bed, out of reach of even David’s long arms. 

“Just give her a few moments to get comfortable,” says Stevie. “She hid under my bed the entire first night David brought her over.” 

“That sounds reasonable,” Patrick says. “Is there anything else we have to get out of Stevie’s car? I assume you had a litter box? Or food?” 

Stevie nods, and she and David agree to go get the cat’s belongings from the car while Patrick plates up their breakfast. 

***** 

After breakfast, David sets out a water and a food bowl, hoping that the cat will come out and eat if she smells food. 

When the cat doesn't come out within a few minutes, Patrick goes into the bedroom to try to lure her out. As soon as he enters the room, he comes face to face with his new pet. 

David hangs back as he follows Patrick to the bedroom. He wants to intercede, but more importantly, he wants the cat to like Patrick. David loves that Patrick is trying so hard to make her feel comfortable. 

Patrick bends down to the cat’s level before he speaks. "Hey, I'm sure it's scary to be in a new place, but we have some food for you." 

She hisses at him and starts to run out of the room, stopping near David standing in the doorway. The cat rubs around the bottom of David's legs and immediately begins to purr. David picks her up and rubs around her ears. She leans into his touch. 

"Patrick is the best. You're going to love him," David tells her. He carries her close to Patrick. "Go ahead, pet her. She'll warm up to you." 

Patrick does as he's told, and the cat puts out a dainty paw and immediately scrapes four parallel lines down Patrick's hand with her claws. 

"Ow! She doesn't like me much," Patrick grimaces. 

"Ew, Patrick, you're bleeding!" David exclaims. 

"It's just a little blood. I'll go clean it up. Be right back," Patrick says, making his way toward the bathroom. 

"Make sure to use the hydrogen peroxide and clean it really well," David shouts after him. 

Turning back to the cat, he tries to make his expression stern. "That wasn't very nice," he scolds her, gently, rubbing the back of her head. The cat purrs implacably. 

David sighs. "He's probably going to be a better Daddy than I will,” he whispers. “He'll clean your litter box, and he’ll play ball with you. He’s a _very_ good ball player. Most importantly, he lives here, so if you stay with me, you stay with Patrick too." 

David takes the cat back to the kitchen and places her down by the food. She looks down at the food and back up at him. 

"Meow!" 

"I know it's not salmon and asparagus, but you need to eat something. I'll talk to Daddy Patrick and see if we can pick up some salmon at the store, _if_ you promise to be nice to him." David isn't sure if bargaining will work, but he has to try. 

The cat rubs her head against David's leg for a moment, then takes a few tentative bites of her food. David tries to back out of the room, but she catches him. She reaches out and claws David's leg. 

" _Ow!_ ” What was that for? I have to go to the bathroom! Do you _mind?_ " 

_“Meow!”_

"I understand you don't want me to leave, but you can't go to the bathroom with me. That's just incorrect." 

Patrick comes back into the kitchen, his hand bandaged. "Go ahead, David,” he says. “I'll try again." 

David nods. If nothing else, Patrick is determined, and David knows, in time, the cat will love Patrick too. 

When David comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, he discovers that Patrick's attempt to bond with the cat has failed, and she has moved back under the bed. 

David heads into the bedroom and tries to coax her out from under the bed. She just stares at him this time, meowing angrily. 

"Listen,” he tells her. “Patrick holds me when I sleep, he feeds me, and he protects me. I promise he'll do the same for you." 

"Meow!" The volume of her response is like the roar of a tiny lion. 

David has no idea how he is going to fix this situation. He is starting to feel hopeless. Maybe bringing this cat home was a mistake. Maybe David and Patrick aren't the right fit for her. The thought breaks his heart. 

"Fine, stay there!" David storms out of the bedroom. 

He makes his way back into the living room and sits down on the couch, leaning right into Patrick's space. Patrick wraps his arm around his shoulder. 

"Any luck?" Patrick asks as he leans over and kisses the side of David's temple. 

"Clearly, she's in a mood." 


	6. Chapter 6

“It’s not working, David,” huffs Stevie from the bedroom, who is dragging what’s left of Patrick’s bathrobe tie back and forth at the edge of the bed. “She’s not coming out.” She flops onto the bed in frustration.

Patrick, who has been pacing, stops in the middle of the living room. “David, I have an idea.”

“Well, at this point, I’m open to anything,” David replies, a little frantically. His eyes follow Patrick’s gaze to the corner of the living room, where Patrick’s guitar is resting on its stand. “What...what idea do you have?” he asks, a note of not-quite-panic in his voice. 

“I played the guitar once before for a skittish creature in a fuzzy outfit, to get him to come out from under the figurative bed and come to me,” says Patrick with a smile. “And I was wildly successful, so.”

From her perch on the bed, Stevie snorts.

“I am not a _creature_ ,” says David, offended. “That sweater is not ‘fuzzy’, it is _Givenchy_. And also, ‘skittish?’ Are you _reverse-anthropomorphizing_ me?”

“David, I don’t think that’s a word. But it worked, though, didn’t it?” 

David presses his lips together and closes his eyes, tipping his head back. “It did.” He smiles at Patrick. “It really did.”

Stevie rolls her eyes. “Get a room, you two.”

“ _Excuse_ me, you’re _in_ our room,” David tells her.

Picking up the guitar, Patrick settles on the couch. He strums a few chords, cocking his head and listening to be sure it’s in tune, and David sits down beside him as he begins to play and sing softly.

_I don't want a lot for Christmas  
There is just one thing I need_

Stepping softly, Stevie comes in from the bedroom and settles in the easy chair, and a broad smile begins to spread across David’s face. 

_I don't care about the presents  
Underneath the Christmas tree_

David and Stevie can’t keep themselves from joining in as Patrick sings the chorus.

_I just want you for my own  
More than you could ever know  
Make my wish come true, oh  
All I want for Christmas is you_

They are singing together, laughing, when a soft white nose peeks from behind the doorframe.

Stevie gasps. David and Patrick both freeze for a moment and look at each other. The nose disappears.

“Keep going,” whispers David, giving Patrick a little shove.

Patrick does, belting out the chorus, trying a falsetto, putting his heart into it, and suddenly the nose is back, followed by the rest of the cat. 

Her ears are up, and her tail is up, and her eyes are bright and interested. She is watching Patrick’s hands as they move on the strings.

David is still as he watches the cat watch Patrick. Patrick comes to the end of the song and simply starts over at the beginning.

Slowly, the cat moves closer to the couch, still watching Patrick’s hands. The only sound in the room is the music from the guitar and Patrick’s sweet voice, and David keeps forgetting to breathe.

“Make my wish come _truuuuuue_ ,” Patrick sings, and suddenly the cat jumps on the couch and swats at his hand. 

“Ouch!” he cries, wincing and jumping back a little; then, regaining his composure, he fumbles back into the groove of the song. “All I want for Christmas is you,” he tells the cat, and she meows at him.

“Oh!” David exclaims. “Will you look at that, just look at her go.”

“David. She’s _singing_ with me.” 

David looks at him with shining eyes. “Do another chorus.”

Patrick resumes playing and singing, and the cat meows a few more times, then nuzzles into Patrick’s hand. 

He tries to keep playing, but the cat is rubbing her wet nose on Patrick’s fingers, causing him to drop some notes; he’s laughing, and David’s laughing, and the cat does a little turn of her body, then drops with a soft thud onto the cushion, curling herself between Patrick’s open legs.

“I can hear her purring from here,” Stevie whispers.

“She’s purring,” David echoes. “Do you hear that, Patrick? She’s purring!”

“I hear it, David,” Patrick says, a note of wonder in his voice. 

Tentatively, Patrick reaches his hand out to touch her head, and she leans into his touch, purring loudly and contentedly. 

“Hmph,” says David to the cat. “You were all about _me_ earlier, remember? When I was _feeding_ you, and _rescuing_ you from a rough life on the mean streets? Any recollection of _that_ , you little hobo?”

“Her taste is evolving. I think she likes me now,” teases Patrick.

“Hmph.” David folds his arms, turns his head away from Patrick, and tips his chin up.

“Hey.”

David turns his head further away, pretending not to hear him.

“David.” Patrick’s voice is soothing. “We both love you. We _all_ love you. Come over here.”

When David turns back, his eyes are brimming, and Patrick reaches for him. “Hey, honey, hey. It’s okay.”

“It’s better than okay, Patrick,” says David, shakily. “Everything is perfect.”

“Agreed,” murmurs Patrick, “agreed,” and he leans in to plant a long, lingering kiss on David’s beautiful lips. 

David is smiling, and crying, and trying to kiss Patrick back, all at the same time, when the cat, who has leapt onto the back of the couch, shoves her wet, cold nose between them.

“Thpfft!” says Patrick, wiping fur off his nose, and David yelps. The cat, unfazed, begins to lick herself.

“Welp, that’s my cue,” says Stevie, rising to go. “This is too much... _domesticity_ for me, on Christmas Day. Besides, I need to get started on my tradition.”

“Speaking of your _tradition_ ,” David starts, and Patrick stands and sets his guitar aside.

“What is happening,” says Stevie, backing toward the foyer. David raises a finger.

“Wait a second,” he says.

Patrick is rummaging in the pantry. With a soft grunt, he lifts a large box off one of the shelves and carries it back to the living room. “Stevie, I’d hand this to you, but it’s pretty heavy.”

Stevie has on her _suspicious-of-you_ face. “What is that?”

“It’s the Twelve Bottles of Wine.” David smiles. “The good stuff. For helping us bring the cat home. And also because, because…”

“We love you, Stevie,” Patrick says, because it’s always been that easy for him. “Merry Christmas.”

“Mm. Mmhmm,” says David, squirming in his seat. “We...we, um. That.”

“You’re insane,” says Stevie, and she swats David on the arm, but her eyes gleam with unshed tears.

David looks at his lap. “We wouldn’t be here without you. We wouldn’t have _any_ of...of _this_ ,” he murmurs, drawing a big circle in the air with his hand, “without you, so.”

There is a silence.

Stevie turns toward the door. “So, like I said, I’m gonna go,” she says, in a small, choked voice. 

Patrick clears his throat. “I can carry this out to your car for you.”

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath, then rolls her eyes. “I love you two goofballs, too, you know.”

David strokes the cat’s back as he tries to tuck his smile back into his cheeks. Her fur is so soft.

“We know, Stevie,” says Patrick, softly, and he follows her out of the house with the case of wine.

*****

When Patrick returns, David is nose-to-nose with the cat, and he doesn’t seem to hear Patrick walk up behind them.

“What’s your name?” David asks the cat, in his new talking-to-the-cat voice. “You need a name. I can’t name you Stevie, your namesake would kill me. My body would never be found.”

“What about Mariah?” offers Patrick.

David startles. “Keep sneaking up on me like that and I’m going to buy a bell for you, too. And we can’t name her Mariah.” He rolls his eyes as though Patrick had just suggested David wear denim overalls. “It’s _derivative_.”

“Oh, excuse me,” says Patrick. “Of course.”

“One other option,” David says, with forced casualness, which tells Patrick he has been thinking about this awhile. “What if...what if we named her Cari?”

“Carey?” Patrick frowns. “How is _that_ not derivative?”

“Not ‘Carey’,” David scoffs. “ _‘Cari’_. With an _‘i’_.”

Patrick’s little upside-down smile returns, the one that says, _David, you’re ridiculous, and I love you_. “I like it,” he says.

“Cari,” David tells the cat. “Welcome home, Cari.” He buries her face in her fur, and Patrick comes to sit behind him, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight. 

They stay like that, the three of them, for a long, long time.


	7. Chapter 7

David’s legs are folded underneath him on the couch in front of their fireplace, which is finally operational now that Ronnie has coaxed that squatter family of songbirds to relocate. The fire crackles invitingly as it warms the room.

He scrolls through his photos, looking for the perfect shot from their New Year’s Eve gathering at the café. He snuggles closer to Patrick, who is curled up beside him on the couch, flipping through the book Alexis had given them for Christmas: _Opening Your Heart To Animals: A Guide To The Benefits Of Caring For Something Other Than Yourself._ Cari is, as usual, draped across both of their laps like a blanket; she is sound asleep, and neither man dares disturb Her Highness, as David has dubbed her. 

“I’m pretty sure Alexis regifted this to us, seeing as how _“To Alexis, All My Love, Ted”_ is inscribed on the flyleaf,” says Patrick, “but it looks interesting. Look, she’s highlighted the entire section on grooming.” He holds the book up for David to see.

“Mhm,” David says, flicking his eyes up to the book for an instant--Alexis had, indeed, highlighted the entire page, including the header and the page number--and back down to the phone in his hand. His other hand never stops smoothing slowly, almost absently, over Cari’s sleek fur. “What about this one?” He turns his phone to Patrick, showing him the photo.

“My eyes are closed in that one,” Patrick points out.

“Yes, but that just makes it more moody,” David replies. “ _I_ look good in this one.” 

“I’m pretty sure someone once told me it’s considered off-brand to depict one of the two proprietors of the store as asleep in a marketing campaign, David.”

“Well, I don’t know where you got _that_ from,” David huffs. 

“Definitely not something you’d say,” Patrick agrees genially. He pats David’s arm, then shifts in his seat, his faint brows knitting together as he emits an uncomfortable little noise.

“Okay, you’re _very_ fidgety,” David says as Patrick squirms beside him. “Is something wrong?”

“All that wine went straight to my bladder,” Patrick admits, almost wriggling now. “Guess I can’t hold my alcohol as well as I used to. I didn’t want to disturb Cari, but...can I just...I’ll be right back,” he says, gently extracting himself from the warm pile of David and Cari currently pinning him to the couch. 

“Love you, honey,” murmurs David, stroking the soft velvet of Cari’s nose with one finger. Cari’s nose might just be one of David’s favorite things, now.

“Love you,” replies Patrick fondly over his shoulder, as he disappears in the direction of the powder room off the foyer.

David is humming tunelessly under his breath, continuing to trace the outlines of Cari’s small, elegant head, when he becomes aware of a scratching sound coming from the rear of the cottage. It sounds like it’s coming from the sunroom.

“...Patrick?” David calls, but Patrick doesn’t answer. The ventilation fan in the powder room is _very_ loud, if somewhat ineffective, and it’s also low on the totem pole of priorities for Ronnie to address the next time they have a good month at the store. David waits for the scratching sound to stop. 

It does not stop.

David is a grown man, a fully-capable human being; he is responsible now for a helpless life not his own, and anyway, Patrick is home. David is certainly up to the task of checking out routine mysterious sounds in his own house. Rising to his feet, David drops a kiss between Cari’s ears, marveling all over again at how deeply satisfying kissing a cat on the head has turned out to be. 

“I’ll be right back,” he tells her. “Don’t go anywhere.” 

She blinks at him sleepily in response.

Grabbing his trusty candlestick--who knew it would come in this handy, thank you, Bob--David makes his way to the sunroom. 

The room is dark, and David flips the switch beside the French doors. Light floods the deck. There is no murderer in sight. 

_Okay._ It must have been a branch, or something. Possibly a squirrel. Do squirrels stay up this late? He’d leave the light on, just in case.

David half-turns to go back to the couch when he hears the scratching sound again. It’s coming from lower down. He inches closer to the doors, peering through the panes.

A pretty little cat stares back at him through the glass. Its body is covered with beautiful swirls of grey and black fur, and it has a black M on its forehead. The cat looks at David expectantly before opening its mouth in a silent meow, then turns and rubs the side of its face against the glass.

Oh. 

_Fuck._

_“PATRICK?!”_

**Author's Note:**

> We can trace the origin of our friendship directly to TrueIllusion. She brought us together, and each of our lives are now much richer for it. 
> 
> Thank you, TrueIllusion, for being a bright light in a world that can sometimes seem so dark. We hope this story makes you smile! <3


End file.
